


Revolving

by I_Am_Not_A_Robot



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Betrayal, Electrocution, Electrokinesis, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Fights, Lies, M/M, Murder, Necromancy, Not Canon Compliant, One-Sided Attraction, Pining Michael Mell, Secrets, Sound control, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Waterboarding, parrilla, pyrokinesis, so much murder, you're never gonna guess who the real villain is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-03-14 18:50:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Not_A_Robot/pseuds/I_Am_Not_A_Robot
Summary: "I can help you. Just concentrate. Focus on nothing else but the energy building up inside you..."There's a spark inside him. He takes a breath."...And let it out."The room lights up with the boom of a lightning bolt.——-Jeremy uses his Squip to grain electricity manipulation as a superpower, but everything goes horribly, terribly wrong.





	1. Status Quo

**Author's Note:**

> Okay the chapters are gonna be pretty short but that's 'cause I can't update frequently if they're long.  
> Anyway... this is my first BMC fic, so wish me luck?

Jeremy Heere watched with an absent sort of interest as a spider crawled along the wall at the front of the classroom. It was just a little above the teacher’s head, and since there was absolutely nothing that caught Jeremy’s attention more (the classwork obviously wasn’t exciting), he ignored the teacher and watched the spider. It must’ve been only one penny big, but it was brown and black and fuzzy and not something Jeremy would want to go anywhere near.

  
Then the bell rang, and everyone got up, chatting and shuffling towards the door. Jeremy sighed and pulled himself to his feet, and immediately tripped over his chair. Falling to the ground with a bang, Jeremy lay on the floor, clutching his ankle in pain, mortified.

  
The few students who had not yet left the classroom yet giggled to each other, whispering and definitely joking about Jeremy. “Timber!” one of the students said, just loud enough for everyone but the teacher to hear. That, or the teacher just chose to ignore it.

  
Jeremy scrambled to his feet, face burning with shame. He quickly gathered his supplies and, face down, shoulders hunched- don’t look up don’t make eye contact- he scurried between the group and out the door.

  
Things couldn’t get worse, could they?

This was the tenth embarrassing thing to happen to him today, and he really _was_ counting.

  
The spider, blue-tinted and so unnoticeable, crawled down to the floor and began a journey towards nobody knows where.

 

. . .

 

Michael Mell leaned against the wall, watching as Jeremy focused on the game he was playing at the time. Jeremy sat a paper cup of Sierra Mist he bought from the snack area on the cabinet, and his eyes were zoned in on the screen as he maneuvered the joystick and hit buttons just to survive longer than a few minutes.

  
“It can’t have been that bad.”  
“You weren’t there, Michael,” Jeremy said bitterly, not tearing his eyes away from the game.

  
“Well, it’s not like I can possibly know anything; you won’t tell me anything! C’mon, man, you can tell me. I’m not gonna judge.”

  
Jeremy was silent for a moment. He paused the game. “Look, it’s just really embarrassing-”

  
Michael’s tone was kind as he interrupted Jeremy to say, “Hey, that’s okay! We all do embarrassing stuff at some point in our lives. Y’know, today, I-”

  
“Okay I’ll tell you,” Jeremy relented. “Just don’t laugh, please.”

  
“You know I’d never.”

  
Sighing, Jeremy explained what happened. “Okay, so you know how I signed up for the play? Well, I was practicing some of my lines, and then-” he paused, and something like hopelessness flickered in his eyes,“- then I accidentally said Christine’s name instead of her character’s. And the entire cast laughed at me.”

  
“That’s it?”

  
Jeremy shot his friend a glare as he took a sip from his soda.

  
“Sorry, sorry, go on.”

  
“...Well, no. That wasn’t just it. Christine just laughed nervously and- and y’know, stood up for me. And that was nice, but she also said something about how I’m a good friend, y’know? Something like ‘Jeremy’s just a good friend, stop making fun of him! It was an accident.’, and, well, at least I know how she feels about me.”

  
Michael, being the kind of person who is positive, all sunlight dripping from a storm cloud hiding behind the fluffy white clouds, the kind who decorates his shell in smiles and reinforces it with mindlessness, tried to cheer his best friend up. “Jeremy, it’s okay. This is better than before! At least she knows you exist.”

  
“But I exist only as a friend,” Jeremy whined miserably. “I love her. She just sees me as a dork who can’t even stand up for himself.”

  
 _But you_ can’t _stand up for yourself._ Michael pushed that thought away because that’s not what good friends are supposed to think of each other. “It’s still better than before. You can work with this! I’m sure once she gets to know you, she’ll be head over heels.”

  
Shaking his head pessimistically, Jeremy took one last swig of his Sierra Mist and resumed the game.

  
Michael watched him, slightly worried. He was worried, why couldn’t his friend look on the bright side of things every once in awhile? The amount of negative thinking that Jeremy let slip through his words every day was increasing by the week, and it was just making Michael uneasy.

  
After a few moments, Jeremy lost the game, and stepped away from the game, sighing softly. “I just wish everything was different.” His voice was quiet, because the black hole in his heart was making his chest heavy and it’s sort of hard to speak when your chest is insisting on crushing your lungs every lonely minute of every lonely day. _All I do is lose, make a fool of myself, or do or say or be something stupid. I just want to win for once in my life. I don’t want to be a loser anymore._


	2. Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a gunshot in the distance.  
> Michael dropped his slushee and ran towards the sound of yelling.

Friday mornings are usually quiet times... but only when there’s no school because of grading day. Michael loved when there wasn’t school, because he could get up late and enjoy his day with no one in the house. Maybe he could even have Jeremy over to play video games or just hang out and do absolutely, positively nothing productive.

_“It travels to your brain through your bloodstream, and then it tells you what to do.”_

_“So... it’s like drugs?”_

_Rich laughed. “It’s better than drugs, Jeremy.”_

Michael made himself breakfast, since he finally had the time to make a good one. No half soggy cereal today- no, today felt like a good day for hash browns. Putting his headphones on and half dancing to the relaxed tune, Michael smiled and went about the kitchen getting the cooking supplies ready. Just a bit of butter on the bottom of the pan...

_The area behind the Spencer's Gifts was dark and cold, despite the sun peaking over behind the building. Jeremy clutched a couple hundred dollars in his shaking hands._

Michael picked up his plate and went to sit on the small porch in his backyard. He pulled out his phone, and first looked at some notifications before tapping on a game to play. Something dumb and mindless and fun.

_The dealer glanced around suspiciously, and passed Jeremy a small grey pill. Jeremy took it and stuffed it in his pocket._

_“Alright, drink that with some regular Mtn. Dew. No other kind, you hear me? Now get lost kid. I gotta run.”_

_Jeremy nodded._

Michael opened the phone app, and scrolled through his limited contacts to find his friend’s number.

_Jeremy took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He briefly wiped the small grey pill off with a tissue, and put it in his mouth, letting it rest there for a second, enough to ask himself “Am I doing the right thing?”_

Riiiing. Riiiing. Riiiing.

_Electricity jumped through his veins, and the booming, formless voice surrounding Jeremy’s dazed brain was loud enough to drown at the riiiing, riiiing, riiiing of his phone in his pocket. Jeremy screamed and fell to the floor as a terrible headache ripped through his mind._

“Your call had been forwarded to-“

Michael exited the app, shrugging. Jeremy must have been busy. He took a bite of his hash browns, and damn, they’re good.

_A silky and confident voice cut through the pain and confusion. “Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor- your SQUIP.”_

_Jeremy looked up from the floor, wide-eyed. “You look like Keanu Reeves,” he said, bewildered. It worked! He had a squip! If things worked out well, he’d be living a popular and good and not lonely life in no time!_

Today’s a great day.

_Maybe today will be a great day._

 

. . .

 

It’s really cliché, but Michael couldn’t just ignore it when he was walking down the street from the local 7/11 and his unusually good ears picked up the sound of screams a few blocks down. Then a gunshot followed, but it didn’t hit anything but a ceiling. He dropped his Slushee in surprise.

Michael pulled his hood up mid-stride as he took off running towards the sound. His feet pounded against the concrete as he ran through the crowd beginning to cluster around the block where the gunshot came from. The grey sky began to let loose a drizzle that was quickly building into full-on rain.

Pushing his way through, Michael stumbled into a sudden clearing. The bank. Of course. He looked to the ground, hoping no one could see his face, and went directly for the door. Someone tried to pull him back-

“What are you doing?! Don’t go over there!”

-but Michael pushed them off. He pulled the door open, hearing cameras going off behind him as reporters made it to the scene.

There was a man in the building, holding a gun to an employee’s head. Terrified, she pointed towards the back in answer to a gruff question Michael heard from outside the building: “Where do y’all keep your cash?!”

“Hey, let her go,” Michael said, and willed the air in front of his face to warp so that nobody could see his face clearly.

The criminal turned his gun to point it at Michael, but couldn’t even fully turn around before Michael raised his arms and

brought

the

air

down

on

him.

The man was hit a wall on the other side of the room as a horrible shriek, the sound of the air itself attacking, picked him up and threw him like a baseball is thrown by the pitcher. He couldn’t recover before another sound rippled through the air, a loud high pitched whine that made his eardrums bleed and the world grow blurry around him.

The criminal groaned and pressed his palms against his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut, but the sound onslaught continued, so much he could feel the reverberations in the air surrounding him in an invisible prison. “Stop!” he pled, scared and most likely going deaf.

Michael lowered his hands. “Oh, shit.” Concerned, he took a step forward. He didn’t mean to hurt the guy this badly!

The others in the room were looking at him in a mixture between fear and gratefulness. All they saw was a guy falling to the ground and screaming silently. This was because Michael put up a barrier between the citizens and him, so they wouldn’t get hurt in the process. It was like invisible soundproofing. C’mon, he’s not an idiot who’s just gonna hurt unlucky civilians in the middle of his fights!

He lowered the shield, and smiled shyly. “You’re welcome?” He turned to go, ignoring the sounds of a few people calling after him.

Someone rushed to check that the criminal was okay. Michael could see that people outside were looking in through the glass walls of the bank, astonishment written on their faces. He pushed open the door and strode our into the rain, waving awkwardly at the reporters who tried to take pictures of him.

A few eager reporters tried to talk to him, but Michael pulled his hoodie farther down his face and manipulated the air around him so he could fly up.

He paused a second, looking at the crowd below him, and then shot off in the direction of his house. A few blocks away, he landed in an alleyway and walked the rest of the way home.

He was literally drenched! And, maybe, it would be smart if he got himself an alter ego name and some sort of disguise. A mask or something.

Michael walked into his house and absolutely fell onto his couch, drained. He sighed contentedly, and closed his eyes.

He really needed a nap. 


	3. Exceptional? Unusual? SUPERIOR.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The squip can do more than just help a person to "be chill."

Jeremy’s eyes could barely stay open, and it was his squip’s fault. The damn computer had messed with his alarm, setting it a whole half hour earlier! Blinking blearily, Jeremy stumbled out his door, yelling at his father to put on pants, and made his way to school. 

He jumped when the squip materialized right next to him, letting out a high pitched yelp, and almost falling to the ground. The supercomputer looked him over with disgust for a split second, then suddenly switching to a lighter mood as a small, almost-smile tugged his lips upward. “I have news. And an idea.”

_ Yeah, what is it? _

“Did you know that helping you isn’t the only thing I can do?”

_ What, you can ruin my life too? _   
  
“No,” he snapped. “I was digging around in the notes my creator wrote about my coding and design. I usually can’t access them, but I managed to hack myself. It turns out, I’m a lot more powerful than other models; I’m the only one of my kind.”

_ The only one?! _

“Yes.” He almost looked proud. “But that’s off-topic. What I meant to say is that I can access and control technology within a 50 foot radius of myself.”

_ That’s… cool? _

“Very. I can also give you special abilities, by rewriting the universe’s programming.”

_ You can WHAT?! _

“Electrokinesis, in particular. That’s the ability to manipulate electricity.”

“Like Pikachu?!” Jeremy exclaimed. A neighbor who was out gardening gave him a wary look. “Sorry,” he mumbled at the stranger, and picked up his walking pace.

“Don’t respond to me out loud. You will appear to others as if you are hallucinating, and that isn’t good for your social image.” 

_ Yeah yeah, I know, it was a mistake! _

The squip looked almost exasperated, and sighed. “Mistakes are no excuse. And, yes, it’s sort of similar to… Pikachu.” He acted like it pained him to say that.

_ That’s awesome!  _

“We will try this ability out this afternoon. I have a plan, and it involves you and some electricity.”

_ You do know you sound like a mad scientist, right? _

“I do not care.” What little emotion he showed earlier had disappeared. 

Jeremy rolled his eyes as he saw the school come into view.  _ Alright, alright, but now you gotta do what I actually got you for: make me popular. _

Jeremy stepped inside, and headed for his locker. He almost tripped in surprise when he felt a small electric shock on his wrists.  _ Ow, what the hell?! _

“Stand straight. Stop slouching; you need to give off an air of self-confidence. Right now you look like an insecure ‘loser’. Which you sort of are, or  _ were _ . But you’re past that, aren’t you?”

Jeremy immediately stood a little straighter and walked the rest of the way to his locker.  _ Yeah. Of course. But was it really necessary to shock me? _

“It is in my programming that associating bad behavior with pain will lead to faster and better results. I am only trying to help you, Jeremy. Now, take your hands out of your pockets and don’t forget to grab a pencil. You can’t afford to try to do your math homework in pen again.” 

_ Okay, _ Jeremy thought, hating how even the voice in his head sounded meek. 

  
. . .

 

Jeremy glanced at the poster on the wall. 

“If you’re nervous about the play, I can help you practice your lines.”

_ Thanks, that’s very nice of you.  _ Just as he was about to take a bite, he heard his name being called. He turned around to see his friend Michael. “Hey!” he called.

“Hey, what’s up? I haven’t talked to you since Thursday, Jeremy. Where’ve you been?”

“Something really cool happened! I g-” Jeremy was cut off by an electric shock, more powerful than the first, shooting up his spine. “Um, nothing.”

_ What was that about? _

“You cannot, under any circumstances, tell Michael about my existence. He c- he will try to deactivate me.”

_ Did you just stutter? _

“No.”

“So, how’s that sound?” Michael asked, hopeful.

Jeremy blinked. “Sorry, what?”

Something like amused confusion passed over Michael’s face. “Dude, Earth to Jeremy? I was asking if you wanted to check out the new movie with me. It’s a sci-fi, and I’ve only seen good reviews. We can go this Wednesday!”

“That sounds-”  _ great! _

“Decline his offer.”

“...Fun. But I don’t think I’ll be able to come.”

_ WHY? _

“There are more productive things to do than watching a time wasting science fiction movie.”

Jeremy sighed.  _ Alright. _

Michael’s face fell. “Okay. But we can still play video games tonight, right?”

The squip shook his head. “We have plans, remember?”

Reluctantly, Jeremy said, “No, I’m busy tonight.” 

The hoodie-wearing teen sighed. “Okay. Well, let’s sit down and eat, at least. I’m starving.”

Jeremy scooted over to make room, his heart heavy. 

 

. . .

 

Jeremy sat alone- well, not anymore- on his bed. There was no one in his house for the time being, as his dad was out shopping. He stared at his hands. “You’re saying I can just make electricity appear?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying.”

Nodding, Jeremy stared at his hands harder. “Why isn’t anything appearing?”

“Because you’re not doing it right. Just, listen. I can help you. Focus on nothing else but the energy inside you...”

Jeremy did. He closed his eyes, and focused. Found the glimmering paths of his nerves, listened to the beat of his heart, and saw it. There, the blue-white center, sparking and crackling. 

There’s a spark inside him. 

“...And let it out. Let it all out, the energy, all those pent-up emotions, any secret or fear or love or shame you’ve ever felt. Focus, let it build up, and imagine bottling it up in a small lightning bolt. And then let that lightning fly.”

Everything that’s ever happened, all the embarrassment and anguish and hopelessness and irritation Jeremy’s felt at himself and his life, he felt it all coming to the front of his mind.

“There, you’ve got it! Now don’t let those thoughts slip.”

He imagined all those moments, imagined stuffing them away into a white-hot ball of electricity, and then-

**BOOM**

The room lit up with the splendor of a lightning bolt erupting from his hands. In that split second, Jeremy felt every single one of his veins crackle, each cell shiver, each nerve light up, every single hair singe. He screamed, the world went dark, and he recalls the distant feeling of falling, and someone shouting his name.

 

Update loading…

“Emotions” is downloading…

This program is not checked, and may contain bugs. Are you sure you wish to continue?

 

| Yes |            | No |

 

_ Yes. _

Please wait ten seconds.

“Emotions” initiating… 

Update complete! 

The supercomputer opened his eyes, and saw his host had fallen off the bed. Some crippling feeling-  **feeling?!** \- ran through his holographic body, and he doubled over. It felt awful, like butterflies and bright orange or deep blue and- oh.

Alarm. Or worry? 

The squip realized he felt emotions. Unusual. No other squips had that ability! This squip was special! He grinned, feeling proud of himself, even if he didn’t know how it happened. It felt nice, pride. It felt  _ very _ nice, like sunlight and gold medals and fire and the echoes of a crowd’s cheers. 

What  _ didn’t _ feel nice was seeing his host sprawled on the ground. The squip sent a small signal out into Jeremy’s brain, contacting his motor cortex, and forcing the unconscious boy’s limbs to move. It was like driving a giant robot suit, similar to the events in Pacific Rim. The squip felt a little thrilled, because this was new, and wow, how did humans do this everyday? Their brains were really amazing pieces of organic technology. He wanted to meet whoever designed them.

He walked Jeremy’s body over to a chair and sat him down before letting him slump down. Things were going smoothly, and the squip knew that his actual plan would get going in no time. 


	4. Bang, Bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oookay that took forever to finally finish writing. i mean, i had it written but then i left it alone for a week before deciding to edit it at midnight, so... i'm sorry friends!

Jeremy woke up to the sound of the TV chattering in the living room. Muffled voices and various sounds seeped through the cracks in the door Jeremy groaned and put his pillow over his head; it was Saturday, why was his dad watching TV so early?

The door slammed open and hit the wall with a bang. Jeremy jumped up to a sitting position, letting out a surprised “Agh!”

Mr. Heere stood in the doorway. “Hey, I made breakfast,” he said brightly.

“Wow…” Jeremy grumbled, falling back onto his pillow. “That’s amazing.”

Mr. Heere deflated a bit. “Oh, sorry. I’ll leave you alone. To, y’know, sleep or something.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy responded sarcastically. He rolled over, turning his back on his dad.

Mr. Heere sighed, and left the room. He walked down the hallway and back to the living room, where he fell back onto the couch and stared at the TV sullenly, ignoring the breakfast on the table.

Sometimes, Mr. Heere felt like he was losing his son. Jeremy never wanted to spend time with him anymore, and it was just so much of a change that Mr. Heere didn’t know what to do! Jeremy was such a loving and happy kid… but everything changed after the divorce.

But then again, whose fault was that? It’s painfully hard to say. Mr. Heere couldn’t pinpoint the exact time that this family had fallen apart, but he knew it was because of him.

He switched to the news channel, tired of the movie he’d been watching, and sat thinking about life and what it meant to be a good father, or a good husband.

The reporter talked about a powerful storm responsible for a power outage to the East, and then onto smaller, less important topics.

“Jeremy, wake up.”

Jeremy groaned and sat up again, glaring tiredly at whoever spoke. He squinted when he saw it was the supercomputer in his head. “What is it?” he snapped.

The Squip looked sort of troubled, and yanked Jeremy upwards. “Come on, we have to go.”

“But I’m in my P’J’s!” Jeremy complained.

Shaking his head, the Squip pointed at a jacket. “Put that on if you’re so worried about _getting dressed._ ”

Jeremy did so, and hurried out the room. He jogged down the hall, pulling on a jacket and shoes.

“Where are you going?”

The teen ignored his dad and left the house. Mr. Heere sighed, shoulders slumping, as if the whole weight of the world was just now beginning to wear down on him after carrying it for decades.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jeremy asked nervously, turning around for a second to watch his house disappear around a corner. “Yknow, like… where exactly are we heading?”

“Somewhere important.” The Squip finally slowed down, and Jeremy did too, catching his breath. Damn computer looked completely fine- perfect appearance, not out of breath, just fine and dandy- ‘cause of course, he’s just in Jeremy’s head. Jeremy felt slightly stupid for even running in the first place. It’s not like he’d lose his Squip or something.

“Yeah, but… _where_?”

“There’s a problem on 12th street. You need to save some people who are being held hostage at gunpoint.”

Jeremy blinked. “What?!” he exclaimed, voice breaking embarrassingly.

“It’s all in order to win Christine’s heart. See, it all goes down like this: you become a hero. You do a lot of good, heroic deeds. After a little while, perhaps a month or two, you tell her that you, Jeremy Heere, are in fact the hero that had been saving this small city from baddies of all shapes and sizes.

“She’ll fall in love with you after that, if you try being romantic, cool, and don’t stop being a hero.d I know this because of her personality type and affinity for theater, based on your memories of her; this is just the perfect love story, isn’t it? It’s the romance of every beloved cliche. She’ll be thrilled to be your girlfriend.”

 _And that’s going to happen if I just save some people?_ Jeremy thought, watching someone pass by on the other side of the street, face turned down against a cold wind.

“Yes. All that and… more.” The Squip couldn’t hold back a soft smile at the way Jeremy’s eyes lit up with hope. He quickly stifled the expression down, remembering he wasn’t here for Jeremy, and he had a job to do other than getting Jeremy the girl he’s crushing on.

_More? What do you mean by-_

“I’m going to call a taxi, since there is no way you can run to our destination in time.” The Squip turned away for a moment, and a small beep sounded. His eyes unfocused slightly, and he spoke to whoever was on the other side of the… well, there wasn’t really a phone. But he was still speaking to someone. “Okay, it’ll arrive in a few minutes.”

After an uncomfortably quiet ride, with the Squip sitting way too close for comfort, the duo made it to a tall building on 12th street.

“Oh, look, we’re here.”

They stood in front of a large, clean-looking building about four stories tall. Some yelling and a gunshot was heard from inside. Jeremy blanched, unwittingly taking a step backwards and closer to the Squip. “I- I have to go in here?” His voice was small.

“Yes.” The Squip did his best to make his voice sound calm and confident, in order to soothe his host’s nerves. It’s not like he’d let any harm come to Jeremy anyway. The teen just didn’t know that one fact.

Jeremy startled when he felt a warm hand in his. He looked down, confused, and then at the Squip.  

“Just trying to make you relax,” the supercomputer murmured.

Jeremy nodded, and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

 

 . . .

 

Michael Mell, local superhero, arrived. From the back of the building, he looked up, neck craning to see all four stories. He groaned as he heard some yelling and a few gunshots. He hated people who used guns like this.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he said, walking in through the back door and creeping down a deserted hallway. Everything went silent for a moment, which made the sneaking around a lot creepier. His footsteps echoes on the shiny floor as Michael looked around. Empty desks with sleek computers and comfortable chair filled the first floor, with a few closed offices. He rounded a corner and came across a reception desk, with large white stairs and a silver elevator leading up to the following floors. Posters hung on the walls of beautiful female models and recent events.

So. This building is one of those Fashion HQ ™ places. How come Michael didn’t know there was such a big business in his city? Why was it here in the first place?

Another gunshot- it ricocheted off a ceiling- sounded, and Michael brushed away that brief pondering in favor of saving some people.

He walked quietly up the stairs (never take the elevator in an emergency!), his heart pounding. Yeah, he’s fought criminals before, but this time it sounded like there were more than one. Michael had to be careful, or he just might end up dead.

After all, every fight could be his last.

Following the sounds of panicked heartbeats, Michael came to a door at the end of a hallway. Another office. He could see the shadows of three men pacing restlessly behind the door.

Deep breath. _It will be okay._ Michael reached out, resting his hand on the door for a second, when suddenly he heard the front door open. He whipped around, walking back out to the top of the stairs and looking down.

It was… some kid. He could only see the top of the teen’s hair, which looked surprisingly familiar.

The door was kicked open behind him, and a tall man stomped out, shouting. “You have to stop shooting as a warning, ‘else the cops will hear, you dumbass! I swear to-” the man cut off, looking at Michael with shock. “What the fuck?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is there such thing as slow burn action? it's the 4th chapter and the main problem hasn't even surfaced yet!! however, you'll get to see the boyf riends fight side-by-side in the next chapter, so look forward to that :D


	5. New Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i honestly, literally, most definitely and without a doubt can't write action scenes

Jeremy closed his eyes, feeling electricity crackle around his hands and up his arms. Honestly, it tickled.

He looked up at the sound of people talking, and saw two people on the small balcony thing on the second floor.

"Short the power circuit," the squip urged, and Jeremy did so, reaching a hand upwards towards the strongest thrum of electricity he could sense near him (he could do that now?!), and sending a powerful bolt up at it. All lights in the building flickered off, bathing it in almost total darkness. Due to the blinds covering the large windows and glass door, only thin slips of sunlight were let into the building.

 

Up on the balcony, Michael and the other man looked towards the window in surprise when they both heard what sounded like lightning. Not even a second later found Michael blinking confusedly when he suddenly couldn't see. "What the...?" he whispered to himself, listening intently for movement, as that was the only sense guiding him now.

He jumped when a sudden beam of light pierced the darkness- a flashlight. Squinting and accusatory glare at the spotlight, he could make out the tall silhouette of one of those criminal dudes pointing a gun at him, and another standing behind him. "What the hell just happened?" The one who was still in the room whispered, annoyance creeping in her tone.

"Oh sHIT-" Michael yelped, echoing himself, and flung himself to the side just as a loud gunshot- presumably aimed at him- sounded. As fast as the bullet itself, Michael "caught" the sound from the gunshot and hurled it back at the man, who stumbled a bit, wincing, the gun almost knocked from his hand. "Take THAT!" he crowed, grinning victoriously.

Tightening his grip, the criminal pointed the gun at the teen hero again, and Michael's smile fell away. "Wait, no," he said, and ducked again.

But apparently he didn't need to, because another figure appeared at the other end of the balcony area. Nobody could make out the figure's face, because they chose to stay to the shadows. It must be the kid Michael saw entering just a few moments ago.

Then the new person cupped their hands, and a ball of what looked like electricity sizzled to life and expanded ever so slightly. Blue light flickered off the walls, but before Michael could use this new light source to scope the newcomer's face, a bolt of lightning shot out and hit the man's hand, who first clenched his hand really hard and then dropped the gun as soon as control of his muscles came back.

Holding his now injured hand to his chest, the man all but growled, "Oh, another little kid with superpowers who fancies themselves a hero. _Great_."

Behind the man, the other guy threateningly pointed a finger at both Michael and the mystery person (despite it being too dark to see the gesture). "Get out of here if you know what's best for you! Nobody wants to get hurt, right? So just leave us alone to get our money, and we'll go. _Peacefully_ , y'know."

"Yeah, but then you'd still steal from this company. That's not okay," Michael argued.

"Oh, point taken. Still, get out of here, idiot."

The woman in the room rolled her eyes. "Just get them out of here," she hissed, and went back to trying to threaten her way into the company's bank funds.

"You heard her. Leave."

"She's not the boss of me!" Michael cried indignantly. "I don't even know her!"

"Yeah, well she's old enough to be your mom. You should respect your elders."

Wondering briefly how the man knew Michael was a teen since he'd been hiding his face and altering his voice, he responded "Well, _neither_ of my _real moms_ would want me to let some low grade criminals rob anything from anywhere! Not as long as I have a say in this!"

"Who said you have a say in anything?" the shorter man said, eyebrow raised (even though no one could see it). "You're a kid. Until you can vote, you don't get to say _anything_."

Fuming, Michael didn't answer, but instead directed a powerful burst of air at them, which sent them flying back, one hitting the wall and the other getting thrown straight through the door.

Michael backed off while they picked themselves up, and bumped into the other person with powers in his blindness, who had been silently watching the entire time. "Oh! Sorry. Um... who are you?"

The mystery person didn't respond, only grabbing Michael's hand and running down the stairs towards the lobby. Looking back up at the balcony, he rolled his shoulders, hands crackling with blue energy again. "Get back," he whispered, and Michael was surprised by how similar the new guy's voice sounded to his friend's. The only difference was that this sounded so much more confident, along with his voice being a little _tiny_ bit different in tone.

Nevertheless, Michael ignored the mysterious person's commands, but then the men ran down the staircase after them, and the mystery person rushed forward and raised his fist, colliding with someone else as a shower of sparks flew off from the impact. The guy was as fast as the lightning he controlled, hitting hard and ducking at least 3 out of five punches that were thrown at him.

Michael listened in bewilderment, trying his best to make out what was going on since he couldn't see. Every once in awhile a few strands of lightning would branch out around the fight, illuminating it in blue highlights and starkly contrasting shadows, and then it was gone in a millisecond, bathing the hall/balcony in darkness once again. Michael collected the mini bangs that these mini lightning bolts let out, holding the wavering air in his palm and waiting for the chance to help the guy, who was currently fighting two criminals at once.

Then, Michael saw his chance: a perfect angle to hit both the criminals again. He darted forward, yanked the new guy back behind him, and tossed the sound like it was a baseball. He lifted a shield barely in time for the ball to explode, shattering the windows with a piercing BOOM. The men weakly pressed their palms to their ears, dulling the sound only a bit.

After about three seconds it died down, though, and they shakily stood up among the few glass shards that managed to fall through the blinds.

One of the criminals thought for a minute, rubbing his fingertips against his gloved palm. The glass wouldn't cut through the glove that easily, really.

He bent down and picked up a particularly large shard, handling it like a dagger. "Use the glass," he murmured, nudging his partner.

The shield died down around the two heroes, and then the mysterious person turned towards him (Michael heard this more than saw it). "You can fly, right? You might want to right now."

Once more bewildered at how awfully familiar the other hero sounded, Michael nodded and floated upwards.

"Um... are you in the air?"

Michael mentally kicked himself. "Oh! Right. Can't see, heh. Yeah, I'm in the air."

"Good." The mysterious hero knelt on the ground, resting his hands on the tile floor, and let loose a powerful wave. The electricity skittered across the ground, jumping and leaping across the tile like dolphins in the ocean, but abruptly fizzled out before they could reach anyone.

At the same time, the new person let out a startled cry, feeling glass dig into his arm. He recoiled backwards, only to bump into another person, and quickly shot off a small shock from his entire body and outward to throw the men off.

The others yelped at the painful shock, but one swung the glass shard again. The electrokinetic hero didn't jump out of the way in time.

The other hero decided he didn't really like what he heard was going on down there, and floated back to the ground. It shocked him when he touched down, but it was more like sliding down one of those plastic slides on the playgrounds at an elementary school- it was nothing more than a small prick.

One of the men grabbed the mysterious hero by the shoulders before he could scoot away, and drove his boot-covered foot hard into the hero's chest. With all the wind knocked out of him, the hero fell hard to the ground, barely registering the glass shards digging into his back. He groaned quietly, heart beating faster when he heard another pair of boots crunching in the glass next to him.

Worried, Michael let out a battle cry and jumped on the criminal, who didn't have a chance to prepare himself for the extra weight and so went crashing down to the ground, right next to the fallen hero.

Michael jumped off him and vaulted over the fallen hero's body, landing from a perfect leap and immediately throwing a hard punch at the other man, who reeled back from the force of it. "Could a little kid do THIS?!" he screeched, and let out another burst of energy into the air around him, which drove the man back farther.

 

Jeremy slowly dragged himself to a sitting position, his head aching a lot. "Ow..." he whined, reaching a hand up to brush away the glass that had embedded itself in his arms and neck. He winced when his hand ran over a particularly deep one, that didn't get loose with one swipe. "Oh god," he hissed, wincing as he pulled it out. It had gone in a lot deeper than he thought- about half an inch.

The other, more famous hero- the one who controlled sound- screeched something about what a little kid could do and punched the other man hard, right before letting out another one of those powerful bursts of energy that sent the air around him attacking the criminal.

"Get up," the squip urged, panic edging into his voice. "I'll block the pain from your mind, but be careful, okay? I don't want you to actually get hurt."

Jeremy sagged in relief when numbness flooded his body, and shakily stood up- and was immediately grabbed and held against a body, barely able to breathe with the arm that had wrapped tightly against his throat and kept him still. The distinct feeling of cold metal pressed into his head, and Jeremy took in a wheezing gasp of terror.

His arms were still free, though, and Jeremy manifested another ball of lightning and twisted his arm uncomfortably to let it loose directly on the man's face. The guy jolted back, letting Jeremy go. The criminal fell to the ground, the electricity causing him to pass out.

In the meantime, the other hero had imprisoned the other guy in a shield of air. How he managed to turn _air_ into something solid was lost upon Jeremy.

"Let's go fix the problem upstairs," the other hero suggested, and Jeremy voiced his agreement, but was stopped by another voice.

"Don't go, Jeremy. You're hurt. You can't feel it, but you're very hurt. M-The other hero can handle it on his own."

_But I need to finish this! I can't leave him alone!_

"No, you can. And you must. You've already helped a ton; any more action and you'll get seriously injured. The other hero can handle one person. He's done it before."

_...Okay._

The other hero made his way up the stairs, but stopped when he didn't hear another pair of footsteps following him. "Hello? You're coming, right?"

"I... can't. I'm hurt. I'm sorry, you have to go on without me."

Michael frowned to himself, but nodded anyway (despite it STILL being dark and sight STILL being limited). "Oof, okay. Go get yourself fixed up, dude."

"Thanks."

The soft sound of a door opening was the last that Michael "saw" of that other hero for the day, and he was left alone with a swirling head of thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you see any mistakes, feel free to point them out! also leave a comment if you want. i sorta live for those, haha. 
> 
> oh, and by the way: if you love Rich, turn back now. :)


	6. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendships are made, relationships blossom... all the good things. Definitely nothing bad happens in this chapter. Absolutely nothing. Everything's fine. 
> 
> Why wouldn't everything be fine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS
> 
> sorry for the months-long wait, but i promise you, i'm not going to forget this! i won't drop it! next chapter will come out soon.

The bathroom seemed dark, despite the lights illuminating the room. Maybe it had something to do with outside, where a violent storm raged, filling the expanse of the sky with an invisible, crackling charge. 

Jeremy stepped under the hot water in his shower and sighed, watching with exhausted eyes as the blood ran down the drain. He grimaced; the hot water stung his wounds.

Sitting down with a groan, Jeremy inspected his body. A large purple bruise blossomed from where that man had kicked him, and his fists and shoulders ached from those punches he’d thrown and received. But all those seemed trivial compared to the abundance of shattered glass embedded in his back.

He gingerly reached a hand around to lightly feel the area around his shoulder blade, biting his lip to keep in a gasp when he accidentally touched a piece of glass that had gotten particularly deep. Jeremy could feel it scratching under his skin every time he moved his shoulder, but now it felt like a piece of coal was getting slowly but surely pressed into his flesh. Eyes watering, and now biting his lip so hard it started bruising, Jeremy grabbed the shard and yanked it out. 

That brought out a sharp yelp, and he immediately bit down on his hand, teeth digging hard into his knuckles to keep quiet. He couldn’t risk his dad finding out about this. If he made a single sound, his dad would know something was wrong. And how could he explain what had happened?

Immediately his back began to tingle with the telltale trickle of warm blood flowing from the open wound and down, diffusing into the water around him and turning it red and pink in some places. He couldn’t shower like this, could he? It hurt so much, it hurt,  _ it hurt. _ Oh god, did he need stitches?! He did, didn’t he—

Numbness flooded the teen’s body, calming his racing heart. Bewildered, Jeremy froze, all senses working themselves into overdrive as his confused mind searched for the cause of such an odd feeling.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to  _ care _ . It was as if a weight was dragging his pulse down and curtaining off his panic. There was that voice, that comforting voice, and it explained everything quietly… explained without speaking a word. 

It’s for the best. Fast heartbeats make blood leave the body faster out of open wounds. Calm down. 

The Squip couldn’t afford his host to die right now.

Not now, not when everything depended on Jeremy’s compliance and compatibility. Jeremy was special, and so was the supercomputer; One without the other was a failed plan. 

Setting the glass shard down on a towel on the floor just outside the shower, Jeremy got to work, meticulously yanking out all the other jagged pieces and feeling none of the pain. It was going to be a long night. 

 

 . . .

 

The small scrapes and cuts on Jeremy’s skin worried Michael. So did the bandages he had wrapped around his hands… and then there was that moment when he leaned over and suddenly there was blood blooming from a cut on his back. Michael freaked out about it, forcing Jeremy into the bathroom to talk.

“Jeremy, what’s going on?!” he hissed, mentally crippling under the anxiety he held for his friend right then. “What happened?  _ Why are you bleeding?!” _

“It’s nothing,” Jeremy stammered, face slightly paler than usual. “I just had an accident. One of the stitches must’ve split or something…”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me?” And why would stitches split? If a nurse administered them, then they should be able to hold. That is, unless Jeremy did them himself. But why?

“Sorry, okay? I just forgot, I guess.” His blue eyes nervously glanced from object to object in the bathroom, flicking to the mirror, to the wall, and then to a spot in the room, almost as if he was looking at someone that Michael couldn’t see. His eyebrows raised just the tiniest bit, a curious look on his face, and then that fell, his expression turning anxious. “I need to go.”

Michael lurched forward and grabbed his friend’s arm, distressed. “Don’t go! You’re always doing that nowadays! When did you get this busy? You won’t even tell me what’s going on.”

“I told you, it’s nothing!” Jeremy snapped, sounding annoyed. “It was just an accident. What more do you need to hear?” With a hard yank, he escaped Michael’s grasp and started for the door again. “I’m  _ leaving _ .”

Left alone in the bathroom, Michael couldn’t bring himself to move for a second. Not even when he heard snickering outside, someone exclaiming,  _ “Oh my god, the boyfriends broke up!” _

Not even when the bell rang.

No, he could only stare at the door, hearing that slam and seeing the disappearing figure of his friend for a second through the crack in the door right before it closed, the image branded into his brain. He knew it was stupid, he knew it was beyond dramatic, but Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it wasn’t just the bathroom Jeremy was walking out on.

Maybe he hadn’t just turned his back on the dirty mirrors and gross tiles.

Maybe he’d turned his back on something…  _ someone _ else. 

 

 . . .

 

By the time play rehearsal came around, Jeremy had mostly forgotten what had happened in the bathroom. He remembered hearing someone laughing as he left, but the Squip was talking too loud for him to understand what that boy (Rich, maybe?) might’ve said. As the rehearsal dragged along, that too got pushed from his mind in favor of the more pressing matters.

Like Christine. 

“So… having fun?” he stuttered.

“Don’t stutter,” the Squip reminded, robotically.

“Yes, actually! I’ve always loved play rehearsal. There’s just something amazing about getting to pretend you’re someone new, someone completely different. It’s like getting to explore a whole new way of life without the permanent changes that come with real life. And on top of that, there’s always the actual performance to look forward too. And I’m really looking forward to that! 

“Y’know, even if all this rehearsing is for the performance, I think the best part is all the memories we, the actors, make along the way. Sure, the finished product is great, but like… all this effort! All this time! And— and I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?”

“N-no, of course not! I like listening to you talk. I mean, uh, conversation. Yeah. Conversation’s nice. You have a pretty voice.”

“Thank you!” Christine beamed. “You too. Well, I haven’t heard you sing yet, but judging by your voice… hey, can I just quickly sing something? I’ve been practicing this song, but I’d love some feedback! You always seem so attentive. I think you’d make a good critic, maybe.”

“Sure! I’d love to hear it!” Flushing lightly, Jeremy listened quietly as Christine began to sing. She sounded like an angel, as always. He didn’t recognize the song, but he figured he didn’t need to know it. Christine probably sounded better than the original singer, anyway. He voiced such once she had finished.

“Aw, thank you! But is there anything I can work on? Like that part in the middle, where the rhythm gets a little syncopated. I just feel like I keep missing some beats. What do you think?”

_ What’s a syncopated? _

The Squip sighed, but Jeremy didn’t miss that barely stifled laugh. He smiled, even with the look of  _ ‘you’re so stupid’ _ that the Squip was throwing him. “ _ Syncopation _ is defined as a slightly uneven rhythm in music, where at least one beat will get an accent that isn’t normally there.” 

“No, you sounded perfect,” Jeremy responded out loud. Christine blushed, and in turn, a warm flurry of butterflies took off in Jeremy’s stomach. Why did she have to be so… well,  _ perfect? _

 

 . . .

 

Swiping away tears, Michael slipped out his window. He could hear his moms talking in his living room, but he didn’t have time to weave a lie about where he was heading. He didn’t have the heart to do it. 

Taking off into the sky, Michael let the wind on his face dry his wet eyes, twirling higher and higher up into the clouds, as if the speed could chase away the ache in his heart. Just when the air was getting thin, his element unable to carry him upward any further, Michael let himself stay still, and watched the sunset spill its golden colors over the clouds far below. He sniffled. God, his heart hurt. 

Michael had always been an emotional kid. Usually he’d smoke weed to feel better, but those PSAs had been getting to him lately, and though the pull was there, he ignored those green claws and flew away. Maybe his breaking friendship wasn’t the only thing he was escaping.

Up here, where the sun glares brighter and the air gets so, so cold, Michael didn’t have to care about anything. He didn’t have to think about his responsibilities. He could just… run away. 

But no, he couldn’t do that. That was immoral. His town needed him, because having a superhero gave them hope and security and safety. Michael was the extra bit of law enforcement that could deal with the situations the police couldn’t. They got busy, too. They needed heroes just as much as the rest of the civilians.

Sighing, Michael let himself fall back down to the earth. He’d stopped crying, anyway. It was time to let go of that peace and come back to reality again.

He’d deal with his emotions later, though. He still wasn’t quite ready to work anything out, or think too deeply. 

If he just didn’t do anything, it would all go away, right? He’d get Jeremy back. Friends have fights, and their friendship wasn’t going to end anytime soon. 

He had to believe it, or… well, Michael didn’t really know  _ what _ he’d do. 

By the time he touched down on the ground, the world had grown darker. The streets were empty, and he walked the few blocks to his house at a leisurely pace, enjoying the warmer air. 

Michael’s above-average ears picked up on a soft sound, and he froze, listening intently. There it was again! A… a scream?

Damn it, really?  _ Now? _

He turned the corner, and saw a figure bent over another. 

“Why are you doing this? I’m didn’t do anything!” said the one on the ground, and Michael’s eyes widened as he recognized the voice. It was Rich!

“You’re not leaving me any choice, really,” came the cold reply. “I don’t believe your lies.” The attacker’s hand gripped Rich’s throat, and suddenly there was a flash of white light, a body spasmed, Rich screamed out in pain— and then two heartbeats turned into one. 

Throat going dry, Michael held out a shaky hand, collecting his own footsteps’ sounds and making his walk silent. A murder. He just witnessed a murder. Oh god. 

The figure straightened up, and Michael caught a glimpse of lightening flickering at his fingertips, before he ran off down the street, not even bothering to look around for witnesses. That… that was the kid who’d helped him stop the robbery. And he’d just killed someone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are finally picking up! it only gets worse from here.
> 
> WARNING for the following chapter: it will contain TORTURE. i'm thinking waterboarding (it's a lot milder than some of the other methods out there), but idk, maybe future me will write something else. if you get queasy with that sort of thing, you might want to be careful when reading.
> 
> i've seen some authors add marks to indicate the worse parts of their works, but i've always found that those interrupt the flow of the story quite horrendously. if you want me to do that, i will, but not unless someone asks for it. but i'm still open to it! (however, if you read the tags, you should've been expecting this, so i'm not too worried about y'all)
> 
> thanks for reading, as always!


	7. Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important information is revealed, but not through any good means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! WARNING !! (DON'T SKIP THIS):
> 
> whew, guys, this got really out of hand. um. seriously, this chapter is SUPER dark. it contains manipulation, lying, and two forms of torture-- waterboarding, and the parrilla. proceed with caution. 
> 
> if you guys don't know what the parrilla is, then let me explain:
> 
> it's a form of torture in which a strong electrical current is sent through a person's most sensitive areas (usually the reproductive organs). it's highly immoral, and can often result in death. i tried to be a lot more vague when describing the scenes concerning it, but it's still not nice in the least.
> 
> following that, there's some implied non-con and non-con touching. like i said, this chapter is very, very dark.  
> 

The afterlife can get lonely sometimes, and Rich Goranski understood that after only three days of being dead. He couldn’t remember much about what he did during those three days, as memories often escape the dead’s grasp. As far as he knew, he didn’t have a funeral. Rich didn’t actually know where his body went. Only that he lost it... _somehow_. 

What had he done to deserve getting murdered?

Before he can think too much on it, on that icy voice or the way the hairs on his arms had stood up in its presence, the numbness of death overpowered once more, and he was left lost, floating in a classroom that he might’ve known, amidst a bunch of unseeing people that might’ve known him. 

“Did you hear what happened? Rich has been kidnapped.”

“I thought he died?”

“Nobody found his body. He just went missing. I, just… I’m worried… who would do such a thing?”

“Maybe he just ran away,” cut in a boy with an electric gaze, speaking with an authority that for some reason Rich knew didn’t belong to him. It just didn’t fit. _How come I know that?_ “Teens do that all the time.”

“Rich wouldn’t do that; he wouldn’t leave everyone behind—”

“You guys are being so dramatic. I bet he’ll return before the week’s over.”

Rich felt the world spin, rubbing his eyes and stumbling to sit down on a desk. He’d been feeling so dizzy lately. And then there were those shocks of warmth that hit him, which grew more and more recurrent as the hours ticked by. 

 

“Wake up,” said a voice, and somehow, Rich did.

 

The place he woke up was clean and well-lit, but too minimalist. He wasn’t overly fond of complete garbage-pile rooms, but there’s a point where decoration gets too empty, and this place had passed that point. It was like there was nothing but the bare essentials. Maybe even some of those were missing. It was unsettling.

But most unsettling thing was the fact that Rich had a body again. Sure, he was happy, but that joy was cut short when he realized that it shouldn’t be possible.

He tried to speak, and found that he couldn’t, as he stared with wide eyes at the sole other occupant of the room. She held something in closed fist, but she quickly stuffed it into her coat’s pocket.

“H-how?” Rich coughed, his voice scratchy and terrible. A horrendous headache split his head, and he groaned, looking down and away from the lights overhead. That’s when he noticed the lightning-bolt shaped scar running down his chest. He lightly traced the red mark up to his neck, and wondered where it came from. 

“Doesn’t matter. We just need information. And don’t play dumb. I know you know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Mr. Goranski?”

“What?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t want to say anything, fine. We’ll just get the answers out of you the hard way.”

Heartbeat picking up, Rich sat up straighter, both appreciating the privilege of having a heart and not appreciating the situation he’d been resurrected into. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about. Can’t I just go home? And why won’t you tell me what happened?” His voice grew more and more agitated and distraught. “I _died_ , for fuck’s sake! How am I here?!”

“Okay, then,” the woman replied, not answering anything. She turned for the door. “Hard way it is then. Hope you have a high pain tolerance.”

Rich was thrown into a stunned silence. “Y-you’re not gonna… uh. Oh god,” he whispered, stomach churning with nausea. “Wait, please! I’m telling you, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The door slammed shut, and a lock turned.

On the other end of the room, another door opened. Rich hadn’t noticed it there at first. Startled, nerves now jittery, he flew off the bed, paper lining crinkling and tearing with his sudden movement. “Stay away!” he yelled, trembling.

The person didn’t respond, merely lifting a square cloth tauntingly and smiling. 

 

. . .

 

It had only been a few seconds since it started, but Rich already felt like he was drowning. The wooden table was uncomfortable, and so was the blindfold and wet cloth plastered to his face, but he could barely even feel them past the panic ripping itself through his chest.

The icy water continued to pour, and oh god, his lungs were filling up, he was going to drown— it just didn’t stop, and he couldn’t see anything, his throat felt swollen and he couldn’t breathe— he desperately needed oxygen, but how could he breathe when every opening was clogged with rushing water? 

“How’s that, hmm? Feel up to talking now?”

The flow stopped, and Rich coughed violently, feeling like his throat and lungs were on fire. The restraints on his arms were loosened, and he sat up, immediately ripping the cloth from his face and twisting over to empty his lungs (and possibly stomach, in his panicked state he couldn’t tell) onto the floor next to the board. He was shaking too badly to do anything else.

At least the man couldn’t see his tears, since his face was already wet. 

“I don’t—” Rich interrupted himself with a hacking cough, feeling like his lungs were ripping themselves up. “I don’t know anything!” How many times would he have to repeat himself?

The man grabbed Rich and forced him down again, holding him against the hardwood. Air thick with dangerous tension, Rich had to muster all his energy not to break down right then and there. He still hadn’t caught his breath yet, and he definitely couldn’t run right now. 

“Do you want to go through that again? Or try something else?” The man looked Rich up and down as he asked that. The teen shrunk under his gaze. “Judging by that Lichtenberg figure there, you’re already pretty familiar with electricity. How about _the_ _parrilla_ , then?”

The terrified look on Rich’s face brought out a laugh. The man straightened up, dragging his victim with him. “If I were you, I’d start talking right now. You _really_ don’t want to experience what’s coming next.”

 

. . .

 

Jeremy hadn’t quite gotten over what had happened the day before. In fact, he couldn’t even bring himself to go to school. He only mumbled a soft “I’m not feeling too well,” when Mr. Heere questioned him. 

Mr. Heere was worried for his son, but he felt like Jeremy could do with some time alone, so he left the house for a little bit. Hopefully Jeremy would come to him of his own accord. The father missed being able to, well, _be a dad_ , but he had the feeling that if he pressed any further on the matter, Jeremy would just draw away even more. It had to be something big if his son was even asking to miss school instead of just skipping it without any warning. 

Once the house was empty, and he was completely alone, Jeremy finally felt comfortable enough to talk. 

“...Why?”

The Squip refused to meet his gaze, seemingly lost in thought. “Why what?”

Jeremy took a shaky breath. “You… murdered someone. Just a few days ago. Rich. He’s dead. We killed him.”

“I know, Jeremy. I was there.”

“You took control of my body. I didn’t know you could _do_ that!”

The Squip sighed, and sat down on the bed next to his host. “I’d like to apologize. I’ve been keeping some secrets. But I promise you, everything I did had good reasons behind it. Trust me, Jeremy. Would I do something without your best interests in mind? I’m here for _you_.”

Norepinephrine and epinephrine flooded out of his host’s amygdalae, and the Squip could almost feel it surrounding him (despite not having sensory nerves). Jeremy was scared. That wasn’t good.

On an impulse, the Squip wrapped a holographic arm around Jeremy’s shoulder, scooching closer to the teen, to simulate a half-hug. “I’m telling the truth. If you want, I can explain everything. I won’t hide anything. What’s on your mind? Tell me.”

“You just… took control,” Jeremy echoed himself. “You could’ve done _anything_. Hell, you did! You went and used my body to take a life! Rich’s, no less! I g- I went to school with him!”

“He was dangerous, and not who he said he was. I was only protecting you and the rest of this city. And besides, why do you care so much about him? Jeremy, he _bullied_ you.” The Squip frowned.

The teen was silent a moment as he considered the supercomputer’s words. “...Okay. Just don’t do it ever again.”

The Squip didn’t need to ask for clarification to know what Jeremy meant. “I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Jeremy tried to lean into the Squip, but he fell right through and landed on the bed. After a beat of silence, both cracked up. "God, I'm such a dork," Jeremy laughed.

The urge to tell him not to say stuff like that, that self-confidence was the first step to being cool passed through the Squip, but he ignored his programming in favor of savoring this bubbly feeling. It was wonderful. And he wasn't going to ruin moments like these with any more cold suggestions.

In truth, the urge to say _'And that's why I like you so much'_ struck him, but he ignored that too. That had a 99% chance of making everything awkward.

Instead, he let his laughs die down, and the moment felt comfortable and warm. "Not your fault," he smiled. 

 

. . .

 

This was insane. 

Apparently, with enough pain, amnesia can be cured.

Somehow that fact didn’t seem right, but this horrible… _situation_ was jogging Rich’s memory.

He couldn’t mention his newfound mental discovery, however, due to the fact that he was screaming too much. The electricity coursing through his body caused his own muscles to be used against them, thrashing so violently he hurt himself, bruising himself against the metal table while the electricity seared a path through his body. 

The charge finally ceased, his tormentor pulling an electrode away from Rich’s scarred shoulder. The other remained where it was, ready to connect at the briefest tap of electrode to skin. The man’s lips pulled up into a tiny grin, barely there, but Rich didn’t see that. “Ready to talk?”

It took a few moments for Rich to collect his scattered thoughts. “Y-yeah,” he croaked out, shivering. 

“Good.”

Rich jerked when he felt a warm hand on his body, caressing his thigh. He couldn’t see the man due to the blindfold still tied tight around his eyes, so every movement was totally unknown to him. Rich hated feeling this helpless. “Get off me,” he tried growling, but it came out more as a whimper.

“Talk first, and maybe I will.”

Usually he’d be embarrassed of his lisp, but Rich couldn’t find the energy to try to hide it. His words were already slurring together, anyway. “...I know where the rogues are.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Or maybe that was just the blood.

“Be more specific.”

“They’re not here. N-not in New Jersey. But um. The-they’re in Virginia.”

“ _Where_.”

“I don’t know! I only talked with them through texts! I’ve never been to Virginia, I don’t know which city, I just know that that’s where the base is!”

“Do you know they're planning?”

Rich didn’t know if he should say. He couldn’t live with himself if he ruined all their plans. They’d never forgive him, and he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself either. 

The jolt of electricity was unexpected, and Rich found himself screaming again. 

He was panting heavily by the time the electrical current was interrupted again, muscles still twitching lightly, his body feeling tingly and hot. 

"Now, answer the question. What are they planning?"

“They’re going— they’re going to sabotage the production building in a few weeks’ time… there’s a... virus, they’re going to introduce it to the code...”

The blindfold was ripped from Rich’s face, and he blinked blearily against the sudden blinding light. “ _Good_ _boy_ ,” the man praised derogatorily, making Rich even more sick to his stomach. He left the room without another word.

With the lack of impeding torture, the exhaustion that had been building finally took over, and Rich let himself pass out, feeling terrible in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna go watch some cat videos now... i felt so bad writing that oh my gosh... 
> 
> ...i think next chapter should be a little more fluffy and short, just to let y'all (and me) take an emotional break XD


	8. Watching The Sky Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna and Chloe have plans, Michael is depressed, and the Squip is considering eloping.

“Please, answer,” Jenna clutched her phone, bouncing her leg anxiously as she sat on the short little wall outside the high school. “C’mon, Chloe…” 

“Hello?”

“Oh! Chloe, have you heard?”

“Heard what?” Jenna could practically _see_ the other girl leaning forward in anticipation. 

“The shooting in Virginia? Apparently Brooke has a friend who has a cousin there. She’s in the hospital.” 

“Oh my god… that’s horrible.”

“Yeah! And the shooter hasn’t been caught yet. They weren’t from the school. Could’ve been someone with a grudge. I was just thinking, maybe we need to, y’know…”

“No, I don’t know. I can’t read minds, Jenna,” she laughed lightly. “We may be friends but we’re not _that_ close.” 

Jenna sighed sadly. Yeah, _not that close_. “Don’t you remember? When we were younger…”

The other girl’s voice got quieter. “Wait, you don’t mean…?”

“Yeah! We might’ve been stupid back then, but we’re older now. Come on, Chloe. Let’s go solve a case.” 

“Jenna, last time we almost got arrested for trespassing.”

“But the dog was found with our help. Think about it that way! We’re both good at getting information. You know that. Hell, we’re literally _spies_. We can do this.”

Chloe couldn’t figure out whether to jump up and down or frown. “This is _so_ much different than a missing pet.” 

“And?” 

“Let’s fucking do it.” 

 

 . . .

 

Alright, he had to admit it now. Michael felt miserable. Miserable and scared.

Jeremy was acting like he couldn’t even _see_ him. And then there was that murder he’d witnessed. He couldn’t get his mind off the awful scene. He felt like a coward, too. After that, he’d immediately ran home and had a full breakdown. 

Not even Jake’s party sounded fun. Not only was he not going to go with his best friend (what’s the point of a night out, if not to spend it with those you love?), but everyone was busy worrying about Rich. He felt sick. Hearing them talk about him, as if he was going to come back… they all thought he was missing. That he ran away or was kidnapped. How could Michael break the news? 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t admit he’d seen Rich die, because all questions would turn to him. _Where’s his body? You saw him last. You saw him die. Who’s the murderer? Who took the corpse?_  

Michael pulled his hood up and put on his headphones, wondering if he pushed the volume loud enough, might it drown out the world? If he was deaf, maybe he wouldn’t have to hear anybody talking. Wouldn’t have to feel jealous of groups of friends, and wouldn’t have to hear one more question about where Rich had gone.

His phone dinged. 

It was… Jenna? She added him and a few others to a group chat? 

Herself, Brooke, Chloe, Christine, Jake, and… Jeremy. 

Michael raised an eyebrow. What? What could any of those popular kids want with him? 

 

**Jenna: So you’re all probably wondering why you’re here**

**Jenna: And the truth is, I don’t have a great explanation**

**Chloe: We do actually**

  * **Michael is now active**



**Chloe: We’re going to find and jail that shooter from Virginia. And find Rich**

 

It felt as if the wind was knocked out of him. Michael nearly choked on his own spit. 

 

**Michael: excuse me what**

  * **Jake Dillinger is now active**



**Jake: I second that. Excuse me, what?**

  * **Christine Canigula is now active**



**Christine: Sounds festive!!!**

**Christine: I’ve got an authentic sword, will that help??**

**Jake: Christine, I love you, I really do, but what the genuine heck?**

  * **Jeremy is now active**


  * **Brooke is now active**



**Brooke: hey Jerry ;D**

**Brooke: oh wait i just read the rest of the conversation, this seems pretty dangerous**

**Brooke: are you serious Chloe? you’re not pulling our legs?**

**Brooke: we’re gonna catch a SHOOTER?!**

**Chloe: That’s the plan, yes**

**Jeremy: ok but um**

**Jeremy: i dont think i can do this**

**Jeremy: could you please remove me from this chat**

**Brooke: 0_0**

**Jeremy: sorry**

  * **Jeremy is now inactive**



**Chloe: Wow… Michael, what’s going on with your boyfriend**

 

Michael felt like Christine’s sword had been shoved directly between his ribs. 

 

**Michael: we’re not dating.**

**Michael: I need to leave too**

  * **Michael is now inactive**



 

 

His head fell into his hands. Michael stared at the ground, the dirty pavement and the leaf directly between his feet. How did life get this awful? He almost wanted to laugh. Oh, he sure could help them incarcerate that shooter. He could also _definitely_ tell them what happened to Rich. 

The ground became fuzzy, his own tears blurring the world. Michael sighed, and un-paused his music. The world could fall into oblivion again. It didn’t need him that much right now. 

 

. . .

 

“And that’s how to make shapes.”

Jeremy smiled, blue electricity crackling around his hand. “Hold on, I gotta try some stuff out.”

The Squip watched patiently, and then sighed loudly. “Sixty-nine? Really?” 

“And here’s a weed.”

“Jeremy I _swear_ —” 

“And here’s you!” 

It looked hideous. Jeremy truly was not gifted with the art of painting with electricity. 

Intense gold and pink plagued the Squip’s core. “Nice, Jer.” His cheeks began to glow a light blue, and he breathed in deeply to calm that before Jeremy noticed. 

“Jer?” the teen laughed. “Since when did we get to nickname basis?”

The Squip rolled his eyes, trying to act like he wasn’t mentally in a panic. That blue glow was getting brighter. 

“Wait, let me try some other things out.”

A vaguely dolphin-shaped outline, some squiggles that neither were certain of the meaning of, a jack-o-lantern. 

“Do you celebrate holidays?”

“What?”

“You’re a computer, so I’m just wondering if you celebrate holidays like people do.”

“Am I not a person too?”

“...Well, I guess you are, but you don’t seem particularly religious or traditional to me.” 

The Squip nodded. “I guess that’s right. I haven’t been around long enough to celebrate all the holidays yet. I was made about three months ago.” 

“...Oh. You looking forward to Halloween?”

“To be honest, yes. The history is interesting.” 

“Thanksgiving?” 

“I can’t eat, and as far as I understand, that’s the main appeal.”

“Christmas?” Jeremy cast a loose pine tree shape into the sky. 

“What would someone give me as a gift? I can hack Amazon and send a gift to someone, but I wouldn’t really have any family or friends to send it to.”

“That’s really sad, dude.”

“I… guess it is.”

“Don’t worry, you can spend Christmas with me. You don’t really have a choice, I guess, since you’re sort of stuck in my brain… I don’t know. Um. Okay, so what about New Years?”

“Sure, it sounds fun.”

“And _Valentine’s?_ ” Jeremy smiled cheekily, a sparkling blue heart surrounding the air where the Squip had projected his hologram to. 

This time he couldn’t hold back the fierce blush. “I— oh...” He stared at the tiny sparks, jumping in the still air and then fizzling away into nothing. 

Jeremy burst out into laughter. “Haaha, man, you should see your face right now!”

The Squip frowned, trying to look annoyed (rather than flustered). “Who could I possibly spend the day with? Your Mac?”

With that last comment, Jeremy laughed even harder, almost to tears. “Oh my god,” he wheezed. The morning’s affairs with whatever Chloe and Jenna were trying were pushed to the back of his mind. 

The Squip was thankful that he could have this moment just to relax and have fun. Unfortunately, he needed to catch himself before this got out of hand. Before something between him and Jeremy developed. That would not be helpful later on. 

He took another look at his host, at the faded scars barely visible on his shoulders, at the smile he was boasting, at the second dolphin he’d made (it looked much better than the first) and for the first time, grew scared. He was scared of the pink and gold warmth in his ‘chest’. 

And more than anything, he was scared about what he was considering. 

It was doable. He could block his orders, override the GPS, and escape it all. He’d cancel the trip to Virginia, cancel everything, and back away from his job. 

The Squip shook his head, as if to shake away his own considerations. No, he couldn’t just go rogue like that. They’d find him, and they’d kill him, even if that meant bashing Jeremy’s skull in. 

“So what do you say?” Jeremy tilted his head, a sly grin on his face. “Let’s go to the mall, check out the electronics. Maybe you’ll get a hot date.”

“Ha, I don’t think so, Jeremy.” _I don’t want anyone else but you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's that i hear?  
> is that the sound of wholesome squipemy?


End file.
